


That Kind of a World

by goldenheartprincess



Category: A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
Genre: Multi, Police Brutality, Racism, Read it anyway, Suicide mention, YOU KNOW IT, its gonna hurt, uh theres like gangs and stuff, you know who's gonna die at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 12:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10967007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenheartprincess/pseuds/goldenheartprincess
Summary: A modernized retelling of A Tale of Two Cities, set in Chicago and New York City.





	1. i.

i.

Chicago teemed with life, crawling from every alley and bar with disregard for the law and a desire to stay alive. Maggots haunted every corner and crevice, waiting to allegedly protect the same community that they were constantly killing. 

Theresa Defarge, a very stout woman in her thirties with cropped blonde hair and a superiority complex, tugged on the hem of her shirt, and leaned on the edge of the countertop she managed. “Jack.” She bit her lip, nodding her head to the stairs. “You’re welcome to the second floor.”

It was a well-known secret at the Temple Bar that the second floor was available to those who wouldn’t be ‘offended’ or ‘triggered’ at the sight of a Confederate flag. “Heritage, not hate,” Ernie would preach from behind the bar, quietly enough to still manage to draw in minorities as customers. 

A gunshot fired outside the window to the rhythm of a familiar song. Theresa ran to the doorway, followed by a few men who claimed to have the same name. The streets were scratched with shards of broken bottle. A boy hidden in cheap black cotton charged past the bar. There was a known blindspot down the alley where the traffic cameras wouldn’t catch kids exchanging hard drugs.

This boy didn’t need drugs, only a few bottles of merlot for a party that night. You see, there was this girl that he really wanted to impress. Maybe she’d be impressed by the ongoing police chase he was caught up in, as Officer Barsad shot needlessly at the boy. It was his job to protect citizens  — the same ones he was shooting at.

Maybe she’d be impressed at the boy’s funeral. 

His merlot poured over the cracked pavement as a hoard of addicts scooped it up into their mouths. It never gave the same high as cocaine or heroin, but they did what they could and wished it was vodka. They yearned for something stronger. 

“Another one down!” Theresa cheered as she watched the boy fall, collapsing against the streets he often called his home.  She despised the hoodlums and thugs of Chicago to the point of believing that peace would only prosper when they were gone. She didn’t care about the specifics; they could go back to Africa or die for all she cared.“Take back our America! Make it great again! Free round on the house!”


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The golden thread laces through the shoemaker's boots.

“The name’s Jack.” Mr. Lorry chuckled, shaking Ernie’s hand at the same bar a few days later. Mr. Lorry was an older gentleman with a fine respect for those that the Defarges didn’t. “The girl’s with me. We’d like to meet the shoemaker.”

“How d’you know him?” Ernie raised a curious eyebrow, wiping down a used glass with a dirty rag. He didn’t have any reason to believe the man and was somewhat suspicious of his comfortable demeanor. Most ‘friends’ of the shoemaker were the types to wear ‘Black Live Matter’ tees or fight against the injustices that the Defarges considered warranted. 

Lorry foresaw his concerns and lit up with a gentle smile in an attempt to sway the bitter man. “He’s her father,” he replied. “Lucie and Alexander Manette.”

“Okay, Jack. Head on up.” Ernie was weary of the pair, but if what he said was true, then they deserved to meet. He believed that even the lowest of the low deserve family.

 

“It can’t be,” Alexander commented when he saw her face. “You’ve passed, how can you possible be here? My beautiful bride.” His fingers curved around her cheek, comparing their tawny skin tones. His skin was wrinkled like a fine oak tree, but she was the dazzling night sky. “Your hair is just as gorgeous as I remember. Coiled and thick. Flat nose. My wife.”

“You’re mistaken, I’m afraid.” She beamed at him nonetheless, her high cheekbones reflecting the pale light of the second floor. “I’m your daughter, Lucie. I haven’t seen you in years. We thought you were dead. How are you?”

“Busy.” His worn hands wrung through each other, itching to stitch up a new pair of sneakers. “How about you?”

“I’ve been okay. I’m working my way through school, you know.” She grinned, avoiding discussing how she managed to afford it. He’d hardly approve of her profession, no matter how high-paying it was. New York was full of opportunities, but none of them were for her. Dancing called her, and if Juilliard wouldn’t accept her, the nearby gentleman’s club would.

“That’s good,” he agreed, before the urge to experience human contact with another person (especially one that meant so much to him) overtook him and he wrapped her in the tightest hug she was ever given.

“Oh, okay.” She stiffened for a moment before relaxing her muscles and hugging back. “I guess that we hug now. I like being a family that hugs.”

“I like being a family.”


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucie and Charlie hit it off at his trial. And who says romance is dead?

iii.

Tight braids hung over her back as she swallowed back her fear to offer her testimony. The salmon dress wasn’t enough to make them believe her. She couldn’t look formal and put together in their minds, no matter how hard she tried.

Charlie couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The form-fitting fuchsia fully captured his attention, so much that he didn’t notice his doppleganger hanging around the back of the trial.

The other’s name was Sydney and he was the key to the case. Charlie was released thanks to the identical twin that just couldn’t quite be. “I can’t believe I didn’t see you,” Charlie confessed after it had ended - after he had been saved.

“It’s fine, mate,” Sydney replied, adjusting the striped beanie covering the same dark hair Charlie had. “We we both a little bit distracted. Don’t pretend you didn’t see her too.” His neck cocked towards the nervous beauty and her father. “Her name’s Lucie. Gorgeous, right?”

“No kidding,” Charlie breathed, his eyes returning back to the way her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders. “I’m going to go for it.”

“Really, dude?” Sydney raised his eyebrows in rhythm to the widening of his eyes. “You just meet someone who just looks like you and you’re going to chase after a girl? I mean, you’re right, she’s hot, but we look _ exactly  _ the same. Isn’t that more interesting?”

Charlie didn’t appreciate the snide comments about his interests. He hoped that their similarities ended with appearance and he acted better than the other. He hoped he was better than the alcohol on the other’s breath or the stubble dotted on his chin. He obviously hadn’t shaved or showered in days, even before a court meeting. “My bad.” Charlie cleared his throat, shifting his weight from side to side **.** “Would you like to meet up later tonight? Maybe we can become friends of some sort.” Friends may have been too strong a word, he saw no hope of being friends with a failed writer of an alcoholic. Charlie could easily tell that Sydney was a writer- between the callouses and the ink spotting his hands, it was obvious. “Drinks or something?” He had a feeling that Sydney would appreciate that.

“Can’t tonight,” he replied. He had an appointment with the only kind of lion who wouldn’t eat him alive. “Tomorrow, I’m free though.”

“Great. Then I’m free tonight for her. Nice meeting you.” Charlie grinned, sliding away towards Lucie. 

She saw him approach and thusly ended the conversation with her father. “Hey.” She smiled as Dr. Manette went to talk to Mr. Lorry. “I’m glad you got cleared.”

“And why’s that?” Charlie flashed her a bright smile, hidden under tan skin.

She pushed a braid behind her ear with a grin. “Because if you were in prison I wouldn’t have a date tonight.”


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miss Pross is a lesbian.

The pair hit it off instantly. However, before that could happen, Charlie encountered Lucie’s best friend, Kaitlyn Pross. She answered the door with a squeal, and chatted with the boy for a few minutes. She was a rambunctious red-head who had a ton of questions for him. She wanted to make sure he was the perfect candidate for Lucie.

“She’s my ladybird!” Kaitlyn giggled, bragging about Lucie on the couch. “Hurt her, and I’ll end you. Kidding!” Charlie had a feeling that she really wasn’t.

“I’d never hurt her,” he promised, growing bored with their conversation.

Kaitlyn beamed, as if those four words would protect Lucie forever. “You know, I used to think the only man that would ever be good enough for her was my brother. Then he turned out to be gay. Now I think it’s you.”

“He… what?”

“Turned out to be gay. Yeah, we have that in common. Have fun with my ladybird!”


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tear don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't stop coming and they don't sto

Charlie wished he didn’t see his fiancée so often in courtrooms.

Between classes all day and working at night, she was hardly home. When she was, he was out doing charity work. Charlie took it upon himself to represent the African-American community in a positive light. He hated how he had to work twice as hard as a white person for basic respect. But that never stopped him from working.

“Charles Darnay has been accused of robbing a convenience store,” the judge, a friend of Theresa’s announced to the room. Her name was Clarice White **,** but she was more well known as ‘the Vengeance.’ She demanded justice. The problem was that her definition of ‘justice’ was the accepted definition of “racial prejudice.” “The jury has found him guilty. He will be remanded without bail, as he’s been declared a flight risk.” Her gavel struck down the order as it fell onto Charlie’s shoulders.

He wasn’t going to survive in a Chicago prison. Not with people like Theresa, Ernie, and Vanessa running the place. His friends and family knew.

“You have thirty seconds to say a quick goodbye,” Officer Barsad muttered as he restrained the prisoner with handcuffs and started down the hallway. He gestured at Lucie to follow them. “Thanks for reuniting me with my sister.”

“It’s no problem really.” Charlie clenched his jaw into a frown. The ladybird flocked to his side without a moment’s hesitation. 

“You’re not going to make it in there.” Lucie shook her head, tears splashing around her face. “People like us don’t make it in there.” 

“I know, darling,” Charlie agreed. He wished to hug her once more before his sentence began. The handcuffs wished otherwise. “We’ll meet again someday.” In heaven, likely, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. He wasn’t going to hurt her like that. He promised now to hurt her.

And with that, he was gone.


	6. vi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sydney Carton is a dreadful drudge of a man.

vi.

Sydney spent all night walking around the city. He was lost in his own world, drunk on scotch and Lucie’s soft amber eyes. God, he knew what love was. It was the dream that never came true, because he never allowed himself the pleasure of having the dream in the first place. He’d had many dreams before, and told her so, but she’d be the last one that ever fell through. Lucie was never his. She told him that.

He recalled the night he confessed. He threw pebbles at her window until she let him inside. Once inside her dusty, cramped room, he took a deep breath and kissed her. Hands tangled in her hair, her lips fell into place against his. It was passionate and fiery and exactly what it was supposed to be like. Like the books he wrote and the manuscripts he read. It was perfect.

When she broke apart, she began to cry.

He was too imperfect.

“We don’t stand a chance,” she said between streams of tears. “I love Charlie and you come in here, climb the fire escape, and kiss me. I can’t love you like that. You know I can’t love you like that.”

“I know.”

And with that, he was gone.

The night was similar to this one, when he stumbled around with nowhere to go but places to avoid. He had nobody to see, but had people to keep from his mind. No matter how hard he tried, Lucie stayed in the back of his thoughts, seeping through like mist. He rolled off his bike with a heavy sigh across the small strip of grass in front of the apartment.

“Mr. Lorry, I need to talk to you.”

“What is it, my dear boy?” the older man croaked out. He rarely spoke to Sydney. They rarely had anything to discuss. 

Sydney grimaced. “I need you to run. Tomorrow morning, drive up to New York. Don’t stop and don’t take a plane. Use cash. Get Lucie and the doctor out. I’ll come with you. But you need to be ready.”

“Slow down, where’s all of this coming from?” Mr. Lorry sat up, adjusting his glasses along his aquiline now. “You’re talking awfully fast.”

“Look, Lucie’s pregnant. It’s Charlie’s, don’t worry, but she can’t raise a kid in Chicago. New York’s better for her. Promise me you’ll bring us to safety?”

“Of course.”


	7. vii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just two bros in jail and one drugs the other oops

“You’re insane. Mental. How the hell did you even get in here?”  
Charlie had a lot of questions. Sydney had a lot of answers.  
Unfortunately, neither of them had a lot of time.  
“I didn’t grow up here, but I know this town like I did.” Sydney swallowed. “They’ll kill you. They’ll make it look like an accident. You either take my clothes or you’re going to be the next Twitter hashtag. Lucie’s baby is going to grow up and know his father as a statistic.”  
“Why would you do this for me?” Charlie asked, stripping off jump suit and replacing it with a band tee and skinny jeans. “We’ve never gotten along since the day we met. Now you want to die for me? At the bare minimum, spend your life in prison?”  
“It’s not for you,” Sydney spat, zipping up the suit with shaking fingers. “It’s an interesting thing to know that everyone has their secrets and their mysteries. I’d rather die with mine. There’s a flash drive in your pocket. You’ll know when to use it.”  
Charlie dug through the new pair of pants to find the shiny metal stick. “This is insane. All of it.”  
“It’s going to work. Before it does, I have to apologize.”  
“Apologize for what?” Charlie asked, as a cloth dampened with chloroform pushed him into a deep sleep.


	8. viii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love Lucie." - Sydney Carton

viii. 

Lucie pulled her laptop out of her backpack as Lorry cruised down the vacant highway. She fiddled with the drive found in her husband’s pocket. He’d be Sydney for the rest of his life, but could never begin to hide his true identity with her. She opened the laptop and plugged it in. The last image she saw on her MacBook had scarred her and so she was justifiably nervous about looking at the drive.

The last image was Charlie’s mugshot.

#JusticeForCharlesDarnay

He supposedly committed suicide in his own room, hanging himself with the plastic bag in the trashcan. Charlie said it was bullshit. There was nowhere to hang and the bag was stapled down. This was a murder.

And it wasn’t even Charles Darnay’s. It was Sydney Carton’s, and the world would never know.

They had no proof.

A document flashed open on her screen.

“You were my last dream.”


	9. ix.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mmmm whatcha sayyyyy

Kaitlyn was on the phone with the movers all day in an attempt to get them to hurry up. Lucie, Mr. Lorry, the Doctor, and ‘Sydney’ had no time to pack, so she was put in charge of the operation. She was unemployed and, consequently, had the time to spare. Besides, the Manettes often paid her to help in projects around the house in addition to letting her live there.

The doorbell rang as she dropped the box that was balanced on her hip. An old collection of DVDs fell to the carpet with a dull thud. A lady was there, with vodka on her breath and the devil in her eyes. “Is Lucie Manette home?” she asked in a shrill tone. “Clarice White sent me. She’d like to have a word with Miss Manette.”

Kaitlyn had been expecting a visit or a call such as this for some time now. “Miss Manette is sleeping,” she whispered. “Please, come back later.”

“I don’t think you understand me.” Theresa Defarge pulled out a handgun and held it to Kaitlyn’s pale freckled face. “Where’s Lucie Manette?”

“You’re a wicked woman,” Kaitlyn spat. “You’ve met your match.” 

Before she moved to Chicago, she took a self defense class at the recommendation of her mother. With a swift kick, the gun fell out of Theresa’s hand. They both scrambled for the weapon, tugged and pulling in an effort to gain the upper hand.

Click, boom.

Theresa stumbled back, blood gushing out of her heart. The fiery ginger took pride in putting out the fire that created a shadow. Theresa yelled something that Kaitlyn didn’t hear.

She never heard anything again.


	10. x.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rip

Sydney saw the cops move into his room when it happened. All he wished was for a better world. He heard their footsteps patter against the linoleum floors, echoing the clock tick closer to his death.

A world without hate.

He had no way to scribble down his final thoughts.

A world where boys can love boys and girls and love girls.

He imagined their faces watching him die.

A world where boys and girls are given the same chances and treated with the same, high level of respect.

Their hands wouldn’t be shaking as they fastened the bag.

A world where skin is beautiful and not a threat.

It was the only way to kill him in there.

A world where hijabis praise Allah instead of disgracing Jesus.

The only way to make it look like an accident.

A world where preferred pronouns are just considered pronouns and gender identity is just considered gender.

This was no accident.

A world where the poverty line is a bar in which nobody can imagine reaching and nobody goes hungry.

The doors flew open as he muttered his last goodbyes to a world that didn’t care.

A world that didn’t hear him.

“Hands where I can see them!”

A world that didn’t see him.

He put his hands up, knowing he’ll die either way.

He’d die happily for that kind of a world.

A world where Lucie has dreams of her own.


End file.
